


The Care and Comfort of your Bard

by cleo4u2



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Gen Work, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22377106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: After Geralt nearly dies, he's surprised by Jaskier's enthusiastic greeting back at camp. Jaskier runs off before Geralt can ask what's going on, but he doesn't go far, and Geralt is going to get to the bottom of this.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 473





	The Care and Comfort of your Bard

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. All errors are my own.
> 
> Inspired by @floatypepi's Geskier art on Twitter which you can see [here](https://twitter.com/floatypepi/status/1220380161293590531?s=19).

“Geralt!”

The ringing in Geralt’s ear almost drowned out Jaskier’s voice. Squinting through his unswollen eye, he briefly saw a green and gold blur, then nearly toppled over with the force of someone slamming into his chest. Arms tightened around his waist as he focused on keeping his balance. Concern briefly flared somewhere in his chest; Jaskier was going to get covered in blood and mud if he kept clinging to him like that.

A muffled, “I thought you were dead,” came from his shoulder.

Looking up, Geralt found Yennifer’s amused face lit by the fire and shot her a questioning look. She didn’t look any less amused as she shrugged, but her gaze flicked pointedly to Jaskier. 

If only he knew what she was getting at..

Since Jaskier still hadn’t released him, Geralt carefully patted the other man on the back. “I’m fine,” he said. Well, he’d be fine, once he could sit and see to himself. The kikimore swarm was supposed to be easy money. They hadn’t banked on a queen and Geralt had nearly died several times. Thankfully, the insect had made its home ruins big enough that dropping the lot on top of it had ensured it wouldn’t be making any more baby kikimore. Unfortunately, he’d also dropped a large section on himself, which…

Geralt looked down at Jaskier, who _still_ hadn’t let go of him, and sighed again.

“Jaskier…”

Jerking away, Jaskier swiped at his face.

“Right,” he said, turned on his heel, and vanished into the trees.

Geralt called after him, but the gold and green doublet had vanished into the dark. Shaking his head at rediculous bards, Geralt turned for the fire only to find Yen standing before him, arms crossed. Again she shot him that pointed look, then jerked her head at the trees.

“Go,” she mouthed.

Throwing up his hands, one holding his sword while the other he couldn’t feel very well, he half refused and half asked what the point of that would be. Jaskier was a grown man. He didn’t need Geralt running after him if he wanted to be alone. Besides, Geralt wasn’t in any shape to run anywhere. But Yennifer didn’t move. She placed her hand on her hip and gestured again, emphatically, after Jaskier.

“Fuck,” Geralt said with feeling, but turned his stiff body to follow.

Jaskier’s trail wasn’t hard to follow. To Geralt’s surprise, he hadn’t gone very far, just past the illumination of the fire. With his back to a tree, he sat with his head against his knees, ass in the damp dirt. That was… alarming. He’d never seen Jaskier dirty on purpose. Disheveled or injured, but otherwise impeccably clean.

“Your outfit will never recover if you keep this up.”

Jaskier hiccupped a laugh.

“I have more clothes.”

That was true, but wasn’t Geralt’s point. Moving to Jaskier’s side, he stared out at the dark.

“I’ve been in danger before.”

Jaskier shrugged.

“You’ve worried I was dead before.” This time Jaskier didn’t move. “What’s different this time?”

Laughing hallowly, Jaskier looked up at him.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Geralt frowned, looking down at the normally effusive bard. There was something about the way he looked up at Geralt, how the moonlight filtering through the leaves glimmered in his eyes, the softness in his expression Geralt hadn’t seen before. Yennifer’s pointed look came to mind and…

“Oh.”

A hysterical giggle bubbled from Jaskier’s lips. His face thumped into his knees. Geralt tried to figure out when it had happened. No, _why_ it had happened. Why in hell’s name would Jaskier have feelings for him? He could have any woman he wanted, knew how to get them with his big brown eyes, charming smile, and silver tongue. Women with money, who could keep him in a plush, carefree life. A _safe_ life, without kikimore swarms.

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” Jaskier giggled again, the sound crawling over Geralt’s skin. “A useless, pathetic bard pining after the strong, noble Witcher.”

“Stop.”

Jaskier did, but Geralt was fairly certain it was because his hand had found its way into Jaskier’s hair. The shuddery breath that made its way out of Jaskier’s chest was flattering. Only, Geralt certainly didn’t deserve Jaskier’s affection. Not after the things he’d said and done the last time they were together.

Mindful of his leg, Geralt carefully knelt while gently pulling at Jaskier’s hair so he’d look up again. The helpless look he received tugged at his heart. Useless and pathetic, that’s what Jaskier thought of himself, and it was Geralt’s doing. Even with that between them, Jaskier was here, with him. Because he cared. Admittedly, Geralt had just been happy to have him back and grateful he had been inexplicably forgiven for his cruelty. He’d never realized Jaskier had simply taken his words to heart.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said. The words were as stiff as his body, but he meant them. “You are not… I was wrong to say those things to you.”

Jaskier blinked at him in surprise, but he finally smiled. Just a small twitch of his lips, but Geralt would take it.

“That looked painful to say.”

Rolling his eyes, Geralt eased himself down to sit beside Jaskier. He bumped his shoulder in reproach for the teasing, but settled in so they kept touching. Their thighs pressed together, their shoulders and arms, and Jaskier ducked his head as if shy. Geralt huffed out a laugh.

“So you don’t hate my singing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Geralt shot back. Then tentative fingers brushed his hand before climbing into his palm. Closing his fingers over Jaskier’s, he admitted, “It has its merits.”

“Such as?”

Jaskier was holding hard to Geralt’s hand, his body twisted to face him. Grunting, Geralt realized he wasn’t actually going to be let off the hook after all.

“It’s clever,” Geralt further admitted. “And it’s you singing.”

For once Jaskier had nothing to say. Worried, Geralt faced him to find his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. That made Geralt smile. It was rare anything could shut Jaskier up. The last time had been his insults, so this was much better.

Geralt teased, “What’s this? Blissful silence.” Only, the words didn’t have the desired effect. He didn’t get Jaskier to laugh, or smile. His expression went flat before he looked away. Desperate to fix yet another mistake, Geralt blurted, “I missed you when you were gone.”

From beneath his hair, Jaskier peered at Geralt.

“You did?”

Geralt squeezed his hand, though he still couldn’t feel much in those fingers.

“I _am_ sorry.”

“Well, I suppose you’re forgiven.” Jaskier’s voice was abruptly too light. Too carefree. “Let’s get you put back together. Your face is a disaster.”

He tried to stand, so Geralt simply held on, and Jaskier yelped, spinning in place, forced to bend over, their faces inches apart as Geralt had his hand. It was obvious what Jaskier was doing: pulling away as they got too close. With what he wanted right in reach, Jaskier could only bring himself to run away. Geralt wasn’t having it.

“You would be safer anywhere else than with me.”

Jaskier managed to look exasperated with him.

“I get into trouble with or without you, if you haven’t noticed. At least if you’re around I’m likely to make it out unscathed.”

Tightening his grip, Geralt felt his heart squeeze. Then he pulled, tumbling Jaskier forward. Geralt was expecting it, though, and caught him despite his flailing arms and legs. When Jaskier realized he wasn’t hurt, he paused and pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking at Geralt slowly from his lap.

“Um.”

Geralt smiled and settled his arms around Jaskier’s torso.

“You were lamenting your feelings for me. Continue.”

Again, Jaskier stared at him with his mouth open, slowly shaking his head. Geralt let him have the moment since he couldn’t run off this time.

Finally, he said, “Yennefer…”

“Oh,” Geralt interrupted. “A friend.”

“A friend?” Jaskier scoffed. “I’ve seen you two be much more than friends. Rather energetically, too.”

Geralt chuckled, caught Jaskier’s chin in his hand, and pulled his face close. His lips met Jaskier’s and he let his eyes close. They were chaffed and thin, but Jaskier let out a wounded sound and kissed him hard. Unfortunately, that had Geralt wincing, so the kiss ended as quickly as it had started.

“Sorry…”

Brushing his lower lip, Geralt found it was split at least twice. He grunted and shook his head.

“Now might not be the best time for kissing. Later.

Jaskier considered him thoughtfully.

“You do taste like blood. And your face isn’t as pretty as usual.”

Incredulous, Geralt asked, “You think I’m _pretty_?”

Jaskier laughed.

“Have you seen yourself? Women and men both swoon wherever you go, and it isn’t because of your muscles.” Jaskier paused. “Okay, it isn’t _just_ because of your muscles.”

Geralt snorted.

“Generally I don’t stare into mirrors.”

Settling his arms around Geralt’s neck, Jaskier said primly, “Then you’ll have to take my word for it, won’t you?”

Shaking his head again, Geralt shifted his hold on Jaskier, and then stood. Jaskier yelped, but didn’t struggle as he was lifted into the air, which was good since Geralt’s balance wasn’t the best yet.

Jaskier swallowed loudly.

“Yeah, the muscles definitely help.” Then he seemed to remember Geralt was hurt. “Put me down, I can walk.”

Geralt grunted.

“And let you run off again? No. You’re staying within my reach for the rest of the night.”

For a moment Jaskier stared at him, then he slowly laid his head against Geralt’s shoulder and relaxed in his arms.

“Well, I mean… if you insist. Who am I to refuse my witcher?”

“If you’re going to start singing…”

Jaskier’s lips turned up in a smile against Geralt’s neck, and then he did sing. Geralt just signed and walked back to camp with his bard in his arms. The woods rang with his voice, sweet and warm, with the first song Jaskier had ever written.

_“Toss a coin to your witcher  
O valley of plenty  
O valley of plenty, oh-oh-oh  
Toss a coin to your witcher  
A friend of humanity”_

**Author's Note:**

> **Come and visit Cleo on... places...**  
Tumblr: [@cleo4u2](http://cleo4u2.tumblr.com)  
Pillowfort: [Cleo4u2](https://www.pillowfort.io/Cleo4u2)  
Twitter: [@Cleo4u2](https://twitter.com/Cleo4u2)


End file.
